Dolore Della Perdita
by JansenFriedh827
Summary: Loss- everyone has to encounter it. Everyone reacts differently. Romano and Veneciano find themselves having to cope with loss when everything suddenly comes crashing down, starting with the death of Veneciano's love. GerIta, Spamano.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! 'Tis be JansenFriedh827.

XD I moved on from the fluffy happiness of Color (if you haven't read it of mine, it'd make me happy if you did! :D) and the short angst of Winter to move on to more GerIta, except this time, with Spamano! I love Spamano. It's epic. Spain's epic. So, bam, Spamano. This story was originally a GerIta one-shot, with North Italy basically angry at Romano for being a jerk to Germany, but it evolved into a fic about coping with the pain of losing someone close to you.

This story is based from Romano's point of view with Veneciano as the next main character as they basically cope with loss. Veneciano's loss made him angry, tougher, but still brittle on the inside. Romano reacted the opposite way. You don't see, but you will. This is a three-shot. I've got a bit of symbolism, some underlying thoughts and ideas. I hope they come across to everyone when they read. :D

Anyway, here's my story, everyone! Chapter One, at least. Its the shortest one. By faaaar. This one's 2 and a half pages, chapter two is something like 8-10 pages, haha.

The title means Pain of Loss in Italian. XD Lol cliche's.

**I don't own Hetalia.** I only own this story in particular. And the plot and dialogue and stuff. No wait, that's all part of the story...

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><p>Romano didn't know what to do when, at nearly 3 in the morning, his younger brother had come bursting through his front door. Romano instantly jolted up upon hearing the crash. As he did, he felt his companion sleeping next to him stir as well, groggy a moment, but becoming quickly alert. Without stopping to ask why Spain was in his bed in the first place, Romano asked, "Did you hear that noise?"<p>

Spain, his face with a rare, serious look, nodded and said, "I think someone came through the front door,"

"_Romano!" _A voice shrieked from the lower floor, muffled by the closed door of his bedroom.

"Was that Veneciano?" Romano asked with a screaming sense of urgency. Immediately, he jumped from bed, Spain right behind him. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, he found Veneciano, half-dressed and flustered, standing in front of the destroyed door. "Veneciano, how- why the hell did you break-" Romano stopped upon seeing his younger brother's face. The younger boy looked like he was about to cry. Not his usual coward tears, either. His brow trembled and his eyes were laced with fear. His face was red and he was sweating- probably from the run- and his lip quivered.

"B-brother…" His voice was broken, but it was obvious he had not been crying yet. Spain immediately rushed past Romano to Veneciano.

"Veneciano, what's the matter? What's so urgent? Has someone attacked you?" Veneciano didn't answer. Instead, he kept his look straight on Romano.

"… G-Germany…" Immediately Romano's anger flared.

"Did that potato bastard do this to you? What the hell did he do? Where is he? I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind, that-!"

"No, Romano," Veneciano's voiced sounded less broken for a moment. Romano saw his eyebrows fall into an uncharacteristic look. "He didn't do anything."

"Don't cover for him! What did he do to you? That bastard, I swear I'm going to-"

"He's dead."

Romano was in shock. His eyes widened and he could feel his knees get weak. He could see Spain's lower jaw fall before the man clamped his hand over it, his body quivering. "No… No way…"

"I got a call from the western front. Germany was killed leading his men in battle." There was a sense of finality to his statement to Romano, as if that was all that needed to be said, but Veneciano continued. "They were run in by bombs from enemy planes. The battlefield was so burnt and destroyed; they couldn't even make out his body. Everyone was dead."

"Veneciano, I-"

"Are you happy now?" His brother demanded of him, his voice growing loud. "You always hated him, and now he's- now-"

"Veneciano-"

"_Gone! _Now he's gone! He'll never come back! He'll never make me wurst, he'll never play soccer with me, he'll never yell at me for being annoying, he'll never turn red when I hug him, or when I kiss him on his cheek…" Veneciano trailed off as his sentence went on. Small tears were trailing down his face. His face was red, but from anger. "I'll never get to express how thankful I was to him anymore. Do you know I always wanted to tell you how I felt about him? I wanted to confide in my own brother? But every time I brought him up you talked about how terrible he was! You didn't even bother to know him, and now you can't! Now _I _can't!" At this point, Spain attempted to calmly step in, through his face showed he was clearly still shaken.

"Italy, I know you're angry, but please don't be angry at Ro-" With that, Veneciano turned and, with some uncharacteristic strength, punched the older man in the face, sending him reeling backwards, falling onto the glass coffee table. With a disturbing _crack, _Spain's head slammed into the glass and instantly it shattered. Romano felt worry and guilt surge up to his throat, and without looking at Veneciano, he ran towards the unmoving Spaniard. Showing aside the table's metal frame, he pulled the upper body of the man onto his lap. He was unconscious. A thin trail of blood fell from his temple, as well as a few minor cuts from the broken glass. Romano could feel his own feet receiving cuts, but was barely aware of it. His eyes had trailed back up to his younger brother. For a minute he was afraid of what his brother would do, but that all faded the instant his eyes met Veneciano's. His brother looked more afraid of himself than Romano did of him. His gaze on Spain, his younger brother fell to a heap on the floor, his hands pressed over his eyes and his hair gently falling around his face, obscuring Romano's view. Tears splashed to the hardwood floor.

"Germany…" Romano could make out the potato bastard's name. As soon as he thought of the name he himself had given the man, Romano felt guilty. Here he was insulting someone even after he was dead, and the man's best friend- also his own brother- was sobbing in front of him. Romano considered lowering Spain back on the ground, but upon spying the glass, he gently picked him up- with great effort- and managed to set him on the nearby couch. With that, Romano stepped over to his brother and leaned down, putting an arm around him awkwardly. "He's gone, brother… What do I do? I feel so lost now. Like I don't know how to eat anymore, or how to walk, or how to cry…" Romano didn't answer.

"Veneciano…"

"Are… You happy, Romano? He's gone, just… Just like you always wanted him to be. He won't ever… Come back… I won't be hanging out with him anymore…" Veneciano still issued harsh words, but they had lost their bite. He hugged his brother close as his cursed him between tears. "Stupid, stupid Romano. You had to… Say such awful things about him… Now he, just like the other… They've both left me…" Romano could feel his brother growing weaker.

"Veneciano… I'm sorry." Romano offered. "Truly… Every insult I gave to him was just out of jealousy because of how obviously he cared about you. I never hated him. I also know he never hated me, and he never acted rudely towards me. He was a good person, Veneciano, even if I acted like I didn't know it."

"You… Don't mean that." Romano winced at that.

"Brother, I'm sorry. I can't…" He couldn't imagine the pain his little brother was in.

"Imagine if you lost Spain, brother. Imagine if you lost Spain so suddenly one day, while he was off protecting you, and every day I saw him I acted like I hated him so much… Imagine if you lost him right now." Romano didn't even try to imagine the situation; just from his brother's words, he felt a pang of melancholy, loneliness, guilt, and hate towards himself. He felt tears prickle at his eyes. Without meaning to, he threw a look towards Spain, lying on the couch behind him, just in case. He willed his heart to slow down as he saw the gentle rise and fall of the man's chest. "Can't you see, brother? See what I'm going through?" Veneciano looked up to him. His face no longer had any anger. It only had sadness and loneliness. His eyes were swollen and red from tears.

"I can't… Truly understand, Veneciano… I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do…"

There was a brief moment of silence as Veneciano's tears slowed.

"I just can't believe he's gone."

Romano couldn't, either. He had seen the man simply a few days before. He felt a strange sense of fear, knowing that the man wouldn't be protecting him and Veneciano anymore. He felt guilt at having insulted the man so much. He felt a small prick of anger for having broken a promise so huge to Veneciano, but mostly he felt remorse over having lost a companion in something as terrible as battle. Romano felt conflicting feelings; of course he felt sadness towards the man, but he still felt lingering sentiments of his faux-hatred. Romano just wanted things to go back to normal. All he could do now, though, was slowly bring his brother to his feet, lead him to the couch, and sit down. He picked up Spain's head and sat it on his lap, and brought his younger brother to sit next to him, lying against his chest.

Instead of feeling his usual embarrassment at being so affectionate, Romano felt warm, despite the situation. He could feel the tears that shook Veneciano's shoulders slowly fade, and the boy was soon asleep with his head rested against Romano's shoulder. Romano ran his hands through Spain's hair, only a faint blush tickling his cheeks. Here he was with his younger brother and his- er, friend- lying with him, asleep. He thought he should have felt somewhat more secure with them, but as he began to feel sleep wash over him, he could only think that there was a gaping hole among them.


	2. Chapter 2

'Sup guys. Here's chapter 2 of Dolore Della Perdita. This chapter's really long and stuff. Oh yeah- sorry if some of it jumps around. I have these marks in Microsoft Word that separate things like breaks in scenes and stuff, but when I upload to fanfiction, half of them disappear. I usually go through and fix it, but sometimes I miss something. So, yeah, if it jumps around, I forgot to put line break somewhere in there.

This story's got a few tiny things that may sound weird or not stick out, but I was trying to get the real feelings of losing someone important, and this is what I ended up with. I'm sure not many of us have lost someone that important to you, though.

Man! This is depressing! Can I write something happy with unicorns and rainbows?

There once was a unicorn named Bob,

Who was depressed at his one girly job-

Through the air he jumped and twirled,

And one day when thought to be a girl,

He just stopped and started a homicidal mob.

WTF THAT DIDN'T MAKE IT ANY BETTER

FML.

Forget that limerick completely. I'm gonna go write a fluffy GerIta after this now.

**I don't own Hetalia. WARNING: Romano has a dirty mouth.**

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><p>Romano woke up feeling sore. Sleeping upright wasn't something he usually did. He was drowsy a moment and somewhat disoriented. He felt a moment of panic when he didn't recognize the walls of his bedroom, but as he became more conscious, he realized he was in his living room. As awareness of his surroundings came about, he became aware of what had happened the day before, as well. On his lap sat a pale-skinned Spain, and to his right was his younger brother, still sleep. Not knowing quite what to do, he sat still so as not to wake them. Not long later, he decided it was high time for Spain to wake, though, and- quietly so as not to wake his brother- he nudged Spain's head. Instantly the man hissed and groaned in his sleep. Romano winced. Bad idea.<p>

He instead nudged the man's shoulder, gently prodding his side. "Hey, bastard. Wake up." Spain moved slightly, his jaw clenched. His eyes opened and instantly closed again as he grunted at the light. Romano frowned. "Spain, wake up!" Spain's eyes gently flickered open partway, enough to see Romano above him. At Spain's loose, green-eyed gaze, he felt his cheeks burn quickly. Not long later, however, the man's eyes closed again. Romano began to get a bit worried. He had forgotten Veneciano punched Spain. "Hey, Spain! Are you alright, bastard? You're acting funny!" Spain's eyes shot open, and the man instantly was up on his feet in a second, standing a ways away from Romano.

"Who the hell are you?" He growled. Romano deadpanned. He could feel his brother stir next to him.

"What are you talking about, asshole? Its me, Romano,"

"Where am I?" Spain demanded. "Why am I here?" His tone was cold and low. Romano had never heard him use that tone of voice before.

"You're in my house! And I don't know why the heck you're here, I should be asking you that!" Romano was getting annoyed. Veneciano was wide awake next to him.

"Spain…? Your head… Are you hurt?" He asked. Romano only then noticed the stream of dried blood trailing from Spain's head from the day before. Romano could see the telltale scarlet color spread across the man's temple through his hair.

"Shit, Spain! The glass! We need to clean that!" Romano was cursing himself for not cleaning Spain's wound earlier.

"Answer me, damn it! Who are you?" Spain yelled. Romano silenced. The man's shoulders weren't loose like usual; they were tight and stiff. His fists were clenched and his posture was strict and rigid. His eyes were cold. Instantly Romano noticed his pupils were of completely different size to each other, and his blood ran cold.

"Spain, I think you hit your head badly! We _need _to get you to a doctor!" Romano stood quickly, only to have Spain back away from him.

"Answer my questions." Spain growled.

"What the hell is _wrong _with you?" Romano could hear Veneciano crying behind him.

"Spain… Why… Is it because I hit you?"

"Spain, stop acting so stupid, you bastard! This isn't funny anymore-" Spain suddenly lashed forward and grabbed Romano's throat, clenching it tight.

"Where. Am. I?" He asked.

"M-my house in southern Italy, outside of Rome! You come here every day!"

"I don't." He answered immediately.

"I'm Romano! You raised me! You bother me every day! We're best friends! What's the matter with you?" Romano choked. Spain let go, and Romano backed up and fell onto his backside. Spain turned and began to walk out the door. "_Wait! _Spain! Where are you going? Your head! Please, wait!" But Spain was gone.

Suddenly, all at once, Romano felt all the pain that Veneciano felt the day before. He felt the intense pain of loss, of betrayal, of guilt. He felt an icy chill in his heart that shivered his spine. He had a sense of overwhelming shock that had registered in his chest, but not in his mind. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His could feel his heartbeat ringing in his ears. He could feel the sun beating down on his back. He could hear his brother's strangled gasps of hurt behind him. Even with all this, he couldn't register his own shock.

"… Spain…" He spoke almost silently.

"Oh, no, Romano! Spain is hurt and walking around in the country, all because I hit him! Speaking of, Romano, you're also hurt! Your feet are covered in cuts! Please let me fix them up…"

"No, Veneciano! We need to find Spain! They're tiny cuts, they don't matter! We need to go!" Romano stood immediately, ignoring the stings of pain.

"_Romano! _Stop!" Romano turned to see his brother, his eyes still red from tears, and he felt guilty for yelling at him. "Please… I've lost Germany and Spain… I don't want you hurt as well." Romano didn't answer, but he moved from the door, closer to his brother. "We'll get dressed and go."

Veneciano finished bandaging his brother's cuts- very crudely and amateur, but it was all that either of them could do. They were silent as Veneciano gently handed Romano his jacket.

"None of this would have happened if I hadn't overreacted, brother. I'm sorry." Veneciano said quietly.

"Don't be," Romano answered. "You had every right to act that way. I've been… Well, a bastard towards- um, Germany. I didn't understand how you felt at all. Now I know how it feels to lose someone."

"I know the way you feel towards Spain was the same way I felt towards Germany." Romano's cheeks burned. "That's why we need to do whatever we can to get Spain back to normal. He's hurt… Because of me…"

"Don't blame yourself, Veneciano." Romano said.

"But Romano…" Veneciano said. "You're so quiet. You won't look up to me. You look like you want to cry." Romano looked away when he tried to meet his gaze.

"I'm just… Really sorry at how I acted, brother. I want you to forgive me, but that would be selfish and dumb, and you…" He trailed off as his brother wrapped him in a tight hug.

"You're not one for mushy things, Romano," His brother said with a bright smile obvious in his voice. Romano turned red to the tips of his ears.

"O-only because I don't want to feel all guilty, you bastard!" He sputtered.

"Don't worry Romano, I know what you mean~"

"What…? Stop smiling! It's not like that! _Chigi!"_

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><p>An hour later, the two were standing in front of each other, panting.<p>

"What do we do now, Romano?" Veneciano asked. Romano shook his head.

"I searched everywhere I expected Spain to be." He said. "I don't know where else…"

"But… It's not really Spain anymore. It's someone else. If you were in an unfamiliar place, where would you go?" Veneciano offered.

"A busy place. To ask for help." Romano replied. "Let's go to Rome."

Three hours later, Romano and his brother had gone through the familiar environment, searching everywhere they thought possible. Romano had taken a seat on a nearby bench, running his hands through his hair, tears prickling at his eyes from the frustration.

"Romano…" He heard his brother say.

"Damn it…" Romano said. "What do I do? First freaking Germany, and now Spain… We're just losing them…" He refused to let himself cry, damn it.

"Romano… Don't cry…"

"I'm not crying, damn it!" He yelled. "I just want the two of them back! … Shit…" He grabbed at his hair, handing his hand and gritting his teeth together. "_Fucking _Spain! _Fucking _war! I hate this! We've lost him, Veneciano! Both of them! We've lost them because of ourselves! Its already sundown. We'd have to stop for the night. By then, Spain could be _anywhere! _We've lost! _Damn it!" _Romano cursed. Veneciano gently tried to tug his hands from his hair before he began tearing it out.

Something just above Romano's vision made his eyes flicker up. A pair of feet standing far from him, evenly spaced and strong. Those familiar shoes. Romano looked up, shocked, to see the one he had been searching for all day, standing merely fifty feet from him. He shot to his feet; Veneciano did the same.

"Spain!" He shouted. The man didn't seem to recognize his own name, but realized the voice was directed his way. He turned his head, and Romano could see his bloody, bruised injury on his head, still unclean. Spain's skin was pale, and even though his stance appeared strong, his eyes seemed out of focus and his arms swung slightly. _Oh, god. _"Spain, your head- god, we _need _to get you to the hospital!" Romano ran towards Spain, but instantly the man's eyes snapped into focus and he stepped back from Romano, the frown on his lips set and his eyebrows creased. It was a look that didn't belong on Spain's face.

"Spain, you shouldn't be frowning! Its not you! We need to get you to a doctor!" Veneciano pleaded, expressing Romano's thoughts.

"Don't touch me." He growled. This made Romano freeze in place. Romano's eyes flickered back to his head injury over and over with each movement.

"Spain, you're being ridiculous!" Romano walked closer to Spain, sounding relaxed, but his shoulders were stiff with caution. Spain eyed each movement closely.

"I don't know who you are. Don't act like you know me. For all I know, you're the reason I'm in an unfamiliar environment. If you didn't want to die, you'd keep your ground." Spain said calmly in a deep, unfamiliar tone. This nearly brought tears to Romano's eyes.

"Spain, its _me! _Romano! I'm the one you crawl into bed with for some ungodly reason, the one you try to kiss and hug all the time! I'm the one that, for some reason, you're always sticking by no matter how much of a- how much of a dick I really am! Our positions shouldn't be switched! You shouldn't be running away from me! You should be here, bothering _me, _saying I'm cute and you love me or whatever the heck you hassle me with! Don't leave me like this! You're coming back, whether you like it or not!" Romano's bravery was flickering between hot and cold as he spoke. In one moment of pure instinct, he moved forward and took Spain's pale hand. It was freezing. The man flinched, but didn't move away. "Please, Spain. It's me. Try to remember."

Spain was staring nearly past Romano. Romano could tell he was focusing on something that wasn't there. His brow twitched with thought, and his eyes blurred out of focus. After a moment, Romano thought he was going to pass out. "Spain?" He asked tentatively, and suddenly the man snapped right back to normal and snapped his hand from Romano's, knocking Romano back in the process to ungracefully land on his back. "Spain…" In the end, nothing changed. The same cold eyes stared back at him, and Spain turned and left.

"Spain! Spain!" Veneciano called over and over, running towards the retreating figure.

"Veneciano, don't," Romano said. "Just stop." Veneciano gave him a shocked look.

"We're giving up?"

Romano paused before replying. "... I don't think that's an option."

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><p>They were soon back at Romano's house, searching on his computer.<p>

"Search the symptoms Spain had,"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Romano demanded. "Um… It says this is apparent in Traumatic Brain Injury… Something to do with the tem- the… Uh… Temporal Lobe? What's that? Sounds like a fantasy country." Veneciano backed from the computer, deep in thought.

"Temporal lobe… It's the lower area of your brain, around your ear and temple area and down on both sides…" Romano threw Veneciano a curious look. "Traumatic Brain Injury is just as it sounds; an external force directly on or causing damage to the brain. It causes a variety of symptoms: different pupil size, drowsiness, unbalance, comas, and in severe cases, personality changes. Injuring your frontal lobe, for example, tends to cause childishness and immaturity. Injuring your temporal lobe tends to cause… Well, it tends to cause aggressiveness, a cruel personality, a generally always-angry person… In the worst cases, sometimes someone without morals."

"Just like Spain… That's where his injury was." Romano explained.

"Also, the temporal lobe includes your hippocampus, which is in charge of long term memory…" Veneciano trailed off.

"Meaning…" Romano continued. "… Spain's completely forgotten about us." Veneciano lowered his gaze.

"Yes… And possibly, himself…"

They were silent for a long while.

"How do you know all this, Veneciano?" Romano asked. Veneciano hadn't even looked at the informational site they had pulled up.

"I, uh, researched brain injuries once." Romano gave him a puzzled look.

"Why? In case you lost something important when you were dropped as a child?"

"No, I just researched injuries that cause… Er, memory loss." Now Romano was confused.

"Why?"

"I, uh, was interested in how the brain worked." Veneciano lied, keeping his eyes low to the ground, his ears tinted red. They were always the tell-tale sign he was lying. Romano looked at him suspiciously, but didn't think anymore of it.

"Whatever. We need to go find Spain tomorrow."

"But I thought you said… After sundown…"

"Forget what I said!" Romano growled. There was a pause, and the confidence in Romano just drained from him. "Ugh… Who am I kidding? We'll never be able to find him in Italy. We're searching an entire country for one person."

"No, Romano! How hard could it be to find a country with a blood on his head? People have probably already called the police."

"The police wouldn't find him before we did."

"I bet people all over where Spain has traveled have called. The police probably could tell where he's been."

"What does that matter to find where he's going? I was right, Veneciano. After tonight, he could be anywhere." Romano solemnly looked out to the cloudy night. The sun had already long fallen.

Suddenly, Romano felt a sharp pain on his face. He was confused for a long moment, slowly bringing a hand up to his face, before he slowly drew his gaze to a red-faced Veneciano. He was shaking.

"Don't _ever _talk like that!" He yelled. He had never seen his brother yell until yesterday, and now he was seeing it again today. Everything was messed up. Instead of getting pissed, he only felt himself weaken.

"What should I do, Veneciano?" He spoke unusually softly. Veneciano's shoulders fell. He realized Romano had given up.

"We're not giving up, you idiot!" Now _that _shocked Romano. "We've lost Germany, we're not going to lose Spain, too! I know how you feel, Romano. But when I lost Germany, I felt angry. I was angry because I couldn't do anything. But you _can _do something! Spain's not dead. He's wandering around Rome. But if we do nothing, he will be dead. We can't just give up."

"Veneciano, just look at the situation…" Romano said.

"Looking at it, assessing it, researching his condition- that won't find him! We need to go out and look!"

"Now?" Romano said. "In the middle of the night?"

"If we need to."

Romano realized Veneciano was completely serious. He wasn't even suggesting they rest. Romano could find tons of things that were wrong with Veneciano's plan, but he couldn't find the energy to object. He just wanted to go and hide under the covers.

"We're leaving now." Veneciano ordered.

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><p>They wandered all over Rome, yet again. They started at where they last saw Spain and tried to follow where they imagined he would go, but they knew that Spain was a different person now. <em>What would we even be able to do once we found him? What if he attacked us? What if he didn't? How would we be able to make his memories come back? What if he's already dead? <em>Questions flew through Romano's mind, he felt like he was going insane. Veneciano kept a clear head, ordering them around, saying where they should go next. He was oddly determined, but Romano could see the fear laced in his gaze, and the pain, and the sadness. Hours after they had searched, Romano left on his own for a bit to let Veneciano rest on a nearby bench. He came back to find Veneciano silently crying. It was a slightly familiar situation. The day before, Romano found Veneciano crying after a great loss, and Romano hadn't a clue what his brother was feeling. Now he knew exactly. He went over to him, put his arm around Veneciano, and let himself cry.

It was a moment of pure luck. In a strong gust of wind, Veneciano had been fixing his coat when it blew off into a nearby alleyway. He cried out in shock and then ran after it, leaving Romano to stray from the main street and follow Veneciano. The wind caused the jacket to tumble into a dark turn off from the alleyway, leading what appeared to be a dead end.

Romano heard Veneciano's quick footsteps come to a sudden halt. He sped up, hoping Veneciano hadn't run into anything. He turned the corner.

"Veneciano, what's-" He stopped to see the situation in front of him. A tall, skinny, but strong man was at the end of the alleyway, his fists up and his knees bent. Blood was trailing down his mouth, and he stood oddly on one leg. Across from him, his adversary was Spain. Spain stood tall, his arms loosely at his sides. His eyes were clearly set on his enemy.

"What the hell you pickin' fights with me, man?" The man said. "You ain't got nothin' on me." Romano could see the pale-skinned, dark-haired man, talking big but staying a clear, safe distance from Spain.

Spain didn't reply. He merely feinted left, and when the man flinched, he came right and shot a fist into the man's cheek. He grunted, stumbling back, but not falling.

"Weak!" He spat. "You rich people think you're so strong. Well you ain't." Wait, that didn't even make any sense. How were rich people stron-

Spain interrupted Romano's thoughts by swinging his leg into the man's face, then doubling with a fist into the man's abdomen and, when the man buckled, a knee into his face. The man fell back, groaning. Romano jumped in.

"Spain, stop!" He yelled. "He's a human! What are you doing? You'll kill him!" Romano shouted. He could hear the man behind him get up.

"The hell are you?" He demanded.

"Get out of my way." Spain said in that feral tone.

"I don't even know why you fightin' me, man!" The man behind Romano shouted. "B-but you ain't nothin'!" Romano could hear the fear practically melting off of the man's words. Romano resisted the urge to roll his eyes and turned around to give the man a glare.

"Spain, this is terrible. You're picking fights! This isn't like you! Just stop with your fighting and we can go…"

"Yeah, go with your sissy friend. Just leave before I kick your ass." The man said, coming towards Spain. Spain clenched a fist and prepared to punch the man again before Romano grabbed his arm.

"_Stop! _Just _stop it_!" He shouted. Spain immediately ripped his arm out of Romano's grasp and shoved him to the side. Romano skidded backwards and tripped over something behind him. He tumbled backwards, rolling, before he landed roughly on his back. He groaned, feeling something poking into his back. A piece of a broken bottle, perhaps. He looked up and was shocked to see Spain's eyes, wide and staring at Romano. It was then he realized how much all three of their roles really had switched; Romano, Veneciano, and Spain. But in that moment where Spain's eyes hesitantly flicked from his adversary to Romano, as though considering fighting, like his mind was telling him to, or to go to Romano, like his body was telling him to, as though he was fighting his instincts. In that moment of uncertainty, however, the man had run forward and landed a heavy, powerful punch onto Spain's temple. Romano watched in horror as Spain's eyes shot open. The man grabbed Spain's head roughly and then brought it down, slamming his knees into it. A sickening crack resounded through the air. Spain fell back and hit the ground with a deep thud.

Romano was aware of Veneciano yelling Spain's name slowly. Or, maybe Romano was just seeing things slower than they should be. A line of blood trailed after Spain as he hit the ground. Blood was pooling all over the ground. Spain was unnervingly still. The man panicked, not knowing what had happened, and just turned and started running past Veneciano. As he came past Romano, everything zipped back to reality- and Romano's hand shot out and clenched around the man's leg, causing him to soar forward before landing on the ground. Romano could hear him shouting excuses, not knowing that his attack would kill Spain, as he hadn't even hit him that hard. But Romano merely grabbed his ankle harder until he heard a faint _crack_. The man cried out, but desperately tried to stand as Romano let go. As soon as he did, Romano punched the man in the face. The kicked the man, grabbed his hair, threw him in the wall, threw him on the ground, kicked his ribs, broke his nose, snapped his bones, everything he could. The man was long unconscious and Romano knew if he continued he would kill the man, but he was blind and deaf to all the cracks of the man's frail body and the red painting the ground.

"_Romano!" _A desperate cry brought him out of his antics, and he stopped everything. The man was still breathing. Romano backed off as though he had been stung, fear causing him to take short, quick breaths. He felt the need to vomit. He hadn't been himself. He nearly killed someone. He crawled away from the man on his back. "Romano…" The voice came, softer this time. Romano turned around to see Veneciano staring back at him, his eyes wide. He blinked, but didn't move towards his younger brother. Instead, Romano crawled towards Spain's limp body on his hands and knees and pretended to cry.


End file.
